


'cause you've been stuck in my head

by kasseelian



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasseelian/pseuds/kasseelian
Summary: In which Paul wants to focus on his mushrooms, but can't because of his soulmate's awful taste in music.soulmate au: you hear whatever song is stuck in your soulmate's head





	'cause you've been stuck in my head

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first culmets fic and it's unbeta-ed so sorry if the characterization is off or if there are any mistakes

Paul was in the middle of an experiment when it happened. 

The god-awful Kasseelian opera flitted and rang through his head as he adjusted the radiation levels in the containment field. The colony had grown rapidly since the last time he’d checked in. The hyphae were now almost completely melanized, and yet still grew towards the reproductive units bolted down in the furthest corner in the field. The black filaments of the mushrooms were stark against the white of the lab floor; the creeping fungus was taking over its environment even when exposed to radiation levels high enough to incapacitate a grown man. 

Suddenly, the music Paul had tried to tune out rose to a climax and made him startle, his fingers fumbling and accidently raising the radiation. Paul cursed and readjusted the levels; he checked on the colony - the radiation hadn’t seemed to cause any lasting damage, only a spontaneous blackening of the entire mycelial grid. 

The music faltered and started back up from where it had been a minute ago. Paul rolled his eyes. 

“If you like Kasseelian opera so much,” he muttered, “you should at least try to remember the entire piece. Instead of making me listen to the same section over and over again.”

And that's how it was most days for Paul: his soulmate would get some bizarre opera stuck in his head and Paul would have to live with it, without being able to communicate his annoyance. Only songs were shared between soulmates, not words or thoughts. On one memorable occasion, his soulmate had had some commercial’s jingle stuck in his head for an entire day and it had nearly driven Paul up the wall, until he’d realized that he’d heard the same jingle at the Alpha Centauri ship terminal. 

Paul shook his head. Some jingle didn't mean his soulmate was on the same planet, and being soulmates definitely didn't excuse the musical torture Paul had lived through. 

He turned back to his mushrooms and finished up his measurements and calculations. The findings were encouraging, pointing towards an engineering revolution thanks to the fungal spores he’d dedicated his life to studying. It would be an advancement to Starfleet’s ships; a chance to truly go where no man had gone before, but where spores had, if his and Straal’s theory was right. Paul looked at his mushrooms and smiled. 

The opera finally came to a stop and Paul wondered, briefly, what his soulmate did for a living, whether he was also in Starfleet. 

The lab door slid open and Straal walked into the room, heading straight for the containment field.

“How are they today?” He asked Paul.

“They’re reacting better than expected to the radiation,” Paul answered as he handed over the PADD.

“Total melanization and still going? Impressive,” Straal said. “Well, looks like I’m taking over from here.”

“I don’t mind staying longer,” he said, hoping his research partner wouldn’t force him out of the lab.

“You’ve already put in plenty of overtime. Besides, it’s my turn to look after our mushrooms,” Straal stated. “It would do you some good to explore Alpha Centauri while we’re here. You might even meet your soulmate”

Paul huffed. “You’re only saying that to have the network all to yourself.”

“Guilty as charged,” his friend said, moving towards the gauges on the wall, PADD in hand. “There’s a café nearby. Go there and come back if you’re bored.”

He huffed again, but conceded. He walked out of the laboratory building and looked for a map that would help him find the café Straal had mentioned. He was only going for a short time, he told himself. There definitely wasn’t a small voice in the back of his head repeating Straal’s words and reminding him of the jingle he’d heard a few days ago.

He found the café; it was rather small and cozy, and there were only a handful of people sitting at tables, eating and drinking. Paul sat down at a table in the emptiest part of the café, and, after having ordered a plain, black coffee, he began scribbling equations on a napkin. There was a certain part he hadn’t quite been able to work out while in the lab, and he focused on solving it. He was so engrossed in his work that he hadn’t noticed when the waitress set down his coffee. His iron-clad concentration did, however, falter when he heard soft Kasseelian opera bars. 

Paul looked up and glanced at the people in the café. They were all in pairs or groups, except one man. He was sitting alone at the table nearest to Paul’s, looking at his PADD. His brow was furrowed in concentration and Paul recognized his uniform - Starfleet medical. 

The music had stopped, so Paul shook his head and went back to his napkin. A few seconds later, the opera started again. He groaned; there was no way he could focus on his work with the music his soulmate had stuck in his head.

“Stifle it,” he said under his breath. “I’m trying to work.”

“I’m sorry?” Asked a voice to his left. 

Paul turned and looked at the man who’d spoken. It was the Starfleet officer.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Paul said.

The other man looked him over, and went back to his PADD.

The music started again.

“Wait, are you the one humming that awful opera?” Paul asked him. “Stifle it, or sit somewhere else.”

The man’s fingers froze over the screen. “I wasn’t humming,” he said, looking over at Paul. “But I have had a certain opera stuck in my head recently.”

“Oh,” Paul said, more than a little lost. If he was hearing the song that was stuck in his head, that meant - 

The man got up, dragged his chair over to Paul’s table and sat down. “My name’s Hugh, and I think we might be soulmates,” he said, smiling softly.

“Oh.” And he found himself smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @kasseelian


End file.
